Stranger to Neighbour, One Winter to the Next

Josie first sees it in the rain. The sky over Great North Road is the colour of wet slate, and then the sun comes under the cloud and lands on the brick, and for a minute the whole corner is lit. She signs anyway, and tells her sister it’s for now.

Winter is errands. Bread from the bakery downstairs, the post office over the road, the same faces at the lights. Nobody knows her yet.

By spring the flat holds the last hour of sun and she stops moving the furniture around.

In February the crepe myrtle comes out. Leo builds a tower of blocks on the lawn, four storeys, no windows. He has never lived anywhere else. She puts the book down. She has stopped saying for now.